Fic: Shattered (Tony-centric) 6/?
Title: Shattered
Author: justhowthisgoes
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Angst
Pairing: Tiva
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Tony can't sleep. He's worried about Ziva. Post-Aliyah angsty ficlets. Was a one-shot, but now extended to a multi-chapter by popular request.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
A Score To Be Settled
shatter (verb)
(shattered, shattering, shatters)
1. smash into pieces
to break suddenly into many small brittle pieces, or cause something to break in this way
2. destroy hope or belief
to destroy something that somebody believed in or hoped for
3. shock somebody
to shock and distress somebody badly
…
He couldn’t be sure how long he’d been like this, just balancing on the frail edge of existence in this not-alive state.
He couldn’t judge the time passing, it all seemed to blur into the background as it spun hazily, drunkenly around him.
He would have been impossibly lost and confused if not for the simple fact of his overriding apathy.
He dimly realized that business as usual still went on around him, but he was detached, distant; he had isolated himself from it all.
It lost all meaning.
Life carried on as he hovered on the outskirts; watching, not taking part.
Observing at best.
Emotionless, unconnected to any of the events that he saw without seeing.
People spoke as if from far off, their mouths moving comically. It reminded him of a silent movie, their words translated into only the essentials.
Blah blah blah. Computer stuff. Blah.
Autopsy report.
Words. There’s so many words. And, and there’s things, and stuff. And emotions. Thanks for listening.
Got a dead marine. Grab your gear. Got a missing kid. Grab your gear. Some idiot smuggled a koala on a submarine. Grab your gear. Grab your gear. Grab your gear. Grab your gear. Grab your gear.
At that last, something abruptly awoke in him that would have been stirring long before if not for his wonderful and terrible absence of feeling, his absolute deadened state.
As he stood with determination the world all at once resumed its usual pace and clarity.
“No!”
He shook his head.
Adamant, defiant, unyielding. Unwilling to let this go on.
“No.”
…
He had made his case, he had volunteered for this mission, he had done what he knew he had to.
Back to the old Tony, at least that’s how it seemed.
And he was right; it was painful.
A different kind of pain though. More excruciating. More… final.
What could any torture be compared to this?
It had almost been better when he was numb, when he was only vaguely aware of the life going on around him.
He didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to remember.
But the pain grounded him. It woke him up enough for one ultimate act.
To be or not to be?
It was suicide, perhaps.
Perhaps not.
Was it possible for someone who is not-alive to commit suicide?
And he was dead. Of that there could be no doubt.
Somehow it seemed he had always known he couldn’t go on without her.
Do you ever think about soul mates?
Without his heart.
I am tired of pretending.
But now he had a purpose, an aim, a goal.
For you.
He would see it through. He was nothing if not persistent.
Though what was keeping him going now, he didn’t quite know.
Some sort of pseudo-heart. That must be it.
Like Metallo.
Only rather than being powered with Kryptonite, he was fueled with desperation.
With retribution.
With…
He squinted up from where he sat, bound, and grinned, his parched lips cracking at the action.
“Vengeance, Saleem. I’m here to kill you.”
...
Chapter 7
Author: justhowthisgoes
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Angst
Pairing: Tiva
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Tony can't sleep. He's worried about Ziva. Post-Aliyah angsty ficlets. Was a one-shot, but now extended to a multi-chapter by popular request.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
A Score To Be Settled
shatter (verb)
(shattered, shattering, shatters)
1. smash into pieces
to break suddenly into many small brittle pieces, or cause something to break in this way
2. destroy hope or belief
to destroy something that somebody believed in or hoped for
3. shock somebody
to shock and distress somebody badly
…
He couldn’t be sure how long he’d been like this, just balancing on the frail edge of existence in this not-alive state.
He couldn’t judge the time passing, it all seemed to blur into the background as it spun hazily, drunkenly around him.
He would have been impossibly lost and confused if not for the simple fact of his overriding apathy.
He dimly realized that business as usual still went on around him, but he was detached, distant; he had isolated himself from it all.
It lost all meaning.
Life carried on as he hovered on the outskirts; watching, not taking part.
Observing at best.
Emotionless, unconnected to any of the events that he saw without seeing.
People spoke as if from far off, their mouths moving comically. It reminded him of a silent movie, their words translated into only the essentials.
Blah blah blah. Computer stuff. Blah.
Autopsy report.
Words. There’s so many words. And, and there’s things, and stuff. And emotions. Thanks for listening.
Got a dead marine. Grab your gear. Got a missing kid. Grab your gear. Some idiot smuggled a koala on a submarine. Grab your gear. Grab your gear. Grab your gear. Grab your gear. Grab your gear.
At that last, something abruptly awoke in him that would have been stirring long before if not for his wonderful and terrible absence of feeling, his absolute deadened state.
As he stood with determination the world all at once resumed its usual pace and clarity.
“No!”
He shook his head.
Adamant, defiant, unyielding. Unwilling to let this go on.
“No.”
…
He had made his case, he had volunteered for this mission, he had done what he knew he had to.
Back to the old Tony, at least that’s how it seemed.
And he was right; it was painful.
A different kind of pain though. More excruciating. More… final.
What could any torture be compared to this?
It had almost been better when he was numb, when he was only vaguely aware of the life going on around him.
He didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to remember.
But the pain grounded him. It woke him up enough for one ultimate act.
To be or not to be?
It was suicide, perhaps.
Perhaps not.
Was it possible for someone who is not-alive to commit suicide?
And he was dead. Of that there could be no doubt.
Somehow it seemed he had always known he couldn’t go on without her.
Do you ever think about soul mates?
Without his heart.
I am tired of pretending.
But now he had a purpose, an aim, a goal.
For you.
He would see it through. He was nothing if not persistent.
Though what was keeping him going now, he didn’t quite know.
Some sort of pseudo-heart. That must be it.
Like Metallo.
Only rather than being powered with Kryptonite, he was fueled with desperation.
With retribution.
With…
He squinted up from where he sat, bound, and grinned, his parched lips cracking at the action.
“Vengeance, Saleem. I’m here to kill you.”
...
Chapter 7